


Shot Through the Heart (And You're to Blame)

by zombiekittiez



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Kind of dark, M/M, Sheithlentines 2021, Suicide Squad AU, Violence, allura is amanda waller, attempts at action scenes, but changed, character death but nobody surprising, dubious incorporation of code names, keith is harley quinn, no hunk because he's a good boy, shiro is deadshot, suicidal and destructive thoughts Shiro, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29435640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiekittiez/pseuds/zombiekittiez
Summary: “Don’t call me that,” Shiro says automatically.“What should I call you, then?” Red raises an eyebrow. “Deadshot?”“Shiro.”“Shiro,” Red says, turning the name over in his mouth. “Cute. Do all your friends call you that?”“You gonna be my friend, Red?” Shiro asks, stepping closer.“Best friends,” he agrees. “And all my best friends call me Keith.”(Shiro has a pretty good idea of what happens to Keith’s best friends)~~A sheithy Suicide Squad AU for Sam! Happy Sheithlentines!
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 57
Collections: Sheithlentines 2021





	Shot Through the Heart (And You're to Blame)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Sheithlentines, Sam! This was such an amazingly fun prompt, I'm actually a huge comics fan and it never would have occurred to me to make that a sheithy AU but I was SO DOWN once I got it! I'm not really an artist but I wanted to make a little something-something for Valentines Day, so please enjoy these AU related bonus images. I hope you dig the fic! <3 <3 <3

Belle Reve isn't all that much different than the Galra underground prison ring. Food’s a little worse, actually.

“That’s a terrible, ungrateful thing to say,” Doc Sanda tells him during his mandated therapy, her eyes sharp and judgemental. “The Galra are inhuman. They took your _arm._ ”

Shiro, stone faced, glances down at where his right arm ends just above the elbow- where he had worn a top of the line, experimental and fully functional prosthetic before the Garrison had brought him in and taken that too.

“That’s completely different,” Sanda sniffs.

There’s an extra ten feet of space in his cell here. Ten feet too many, in his opinion. He doesn’t even know what to do with it, too used to living in his ten by ten. His whole workout routine and day to day reflects it. Standing in that extra ten feet feels wrong. He avoids it when he can.

Shiro’s alone on the cellblock after a couple lifers get wind that he used to be Garrison’s Golden Boy. They don’t pay attention to how he fell from grace or where he’s been, too excited for the chance to extract a little prison vengeance on the one armed quiet guy.

After they hose them off the shower walls, Shiro’s in solitary.

Once upon a time, Shiro had thought this was where he wanted to be. That if only the Garrison could find him, everything would turn out. By the time he woke up strapped to the table one arm down, he’d already resigned himself to the truth. He’ll spend the rest of his life in prison- Galra, here, his own shattered fractured mind. Whatever.

He doesn’t even really mind it when Sendak shows up.

“Look at you,” Sendak says with avid enjoyment, tapping on the bars between them. Sendak’s prosthetic is gone too, Shiro notes disinterestedly. Bulky piece of shit. He’s probably a better fighter without it, honestly.

The guards look at them like they’re crazy. No way this is them, they say. Missing an arm each? That one’s only got one eye.

Deadshot and the Captain. What a reunion.

“You’re on this side of the bars because you’re the same as me,” Sendak says mildly. “I told you that you’d be better off with us.”

Shiro ignores him. It isn’t like he’s wrong, anyway.

He’s always been good with routine. Exercise, food, sleep.

“You’re gonna die down here,” Sendak taunts him.

God, he hopes so.

“At least you don’t have to kill anymore,” Sanda tells him disapprovingly. She’s the only person he sees besides Sendak and the guards who are changed for new every fortnight. He’s not sure who he likes less.

“For now,” Shiro allows.

And then, one day, that isn’t true either.

~~

They wait until Sendak is gone to the showers to show up outside his cell. It’s eleven-twenty and Shiro has another ten minutes to meditate before his next set of chin ups on his bunk. He knows the woman standing there and that she must know that too. She’s interrupting to catch him off guard, to force him off balance.

He keeps his eyes closed and his breathing regular.

“Hey,” the tall guard flanking her frowns, rapping his weapon against the bars. “You’re being rude.”

“Don’t,” the shorter guard warns, but it’s too late.

Quick as anything, Shiro is across the space, fingers of his left hand hooking around the weapon and pulling _hard._ The tall guard crashes face-first into the bars with a grunt of surprise, his weapon coming loose instantly. Shiro flips it around. It feels good in his hands- nicely balanced, not flashy.

Almost instantly the security system triggers, reading the presence of a weapon inside the cell. Turrets lower from the ceiling, trained on Shiro with a dozen red laser sights. He ignores them.

“Well?” Shiro demands.

“Pardon?” The woman says coolly. Shiro spins the weapon expertly, offering her the grip through the bars.

“Do I pass?”

She smiles then, a brief, hard little thing.

“You-” The tall guard’s face twists, grudgingly impressed.

“Take your weapon back, Taylor,” she instructs. Sheepishly, he obeys.

“My name is Allura Alforssen,” she says. “I’m here to offer you a job.”

“Fine.” Shiro says agreeably, stepping back from the bars. The turrets retreat into their panels in the walls and ceilings.

“Fine? Just like that? I don’t trust him, Allura-” Taylor says but Allura holds up a hand to silence him.

“Why so eager? You didn’t even ask what is in it for you,” Allura says carefully.

Shiro shrugs. “I’m guessing not time off for good behavior.” The shorter guard snorts a laugh. “I don’t care,” he adds, settling back onto his bunk into his meditation. “You and the Galra- you’re all the same.”

Taylor bristles but Allura looks pleased. “We’re not,” she says. “And I look forward to proving it to you.”

Shiro closes his eyes. Two sets of footsteps disappear down the hall.

“... do you know who I am?” the shorter guard whispers.

Shiro nods. How could he forget that face?

“Then you know what I want,” she says firmly.

“I can’t help you, Katie Holt. Matt’s gone.” Shiro says. He tries to be brusque but his voice falters a little on the name.

She snorts again, which surprises him into opening his eyes. She’s looking at him a little exasperatedly- not an expression he’s used to from people.

“Of course he’s not,” she says simply. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

Shiro blinks in slow surprise. A clatter coming from the showers- Sendak, and the regular guards.

“Listen- this is bigger than a one time thing. I need you to do something for me- for Matt.” She urges.

“Anything,” Shiro promises with the recklessness of not having anything left to lose.

“Survive,” she says, and darts away down the hall.

Sendak, coming up behind with a guard on either side cocks his head to the side, listening to the retreating steps.

“They got you too,” he says, pleased. “I’ll kill you if I get the chance, you know.”

Shiro closes his eyes.

Patience yields focus.

Survive, she’d said.

(Shiro’s never wanted to do anything less)

~

In the morning, Shiro is walked under lock and key down the hall to medical. Sendak, he notes, is already gone from his cell. The room they bring him to has been cleared of all the usual equipment, leaving only two examination tables surrounded by makeshift plexiglass cages. One is for him; one is occupied.

Sendak sits in the cage nearest to the door, rubbing his neck with a murderous glare in Shiro’s direction; he doesn’t seem in the mood for the usual harassment, something that is unexpectedly pleasant.

Shiro doesn’t protest when the doctor on staff and the assistings strip him of his clothes, turning to and fro under their rough direction. They check the usual: blood pressure and pulse, vision, hearing, reflexes. They do at least allow him his underwear before jabbing him in the neck with the six inch needle. Shiro does not flinch.

“You know what that is?” Sendak taunts and Shiro doesn’t react to that either. “You know what they put inside you?”

Shiro does, actually. He just doesn’t care.

Sendak gets his clothes back and the guards shuffle him into the next room. Like clockwork, the door from the prison opens to bring in someone else.

 _Nice build,_ is Shiro’s first thought, absentmindedly. Five foot eleven? Ten and a half, but slouching. Small waist, good shoulders, defined musculature- a gymnast? Strong. Shaggy dark hair with red and purple highlights falls down to his waist, loose and lovely, obscuring his face and though his steps are small and measured, there’s a lightness to where he places his feet. He’s fast, and used to thinking on the fly.

He’s led into the plexiglass cage, door shut while the medicos prepare on the far side of the room. Shiro watches with mild interest.

Suddenly the man… boy, really, Shiro sees now, can’t be more than twenty, looks up, right at Shiro. A starkly pretty face, violet eyes.

He looks at Shiro, up and down… and winks.

Shiro, suddenly aware of his own state of undress, flushes red despite himself.

Shiro gets his clothes back and the boy turns dutifully toward his own team, allowing them to poke and prod and examine with detached amusement. He can feel those brilliant eyes follow him as he’s led into the next area.

It’s… not bad, actually. Concrete all around, sure, and lined with a dozen or so guards with the big guns, but there are nicer benches, ones that actually have padding, like in the medium security areas. Sendak sits on one and at a glance there’s something… off about him. Shiro can’t quite put his finger on it first, but-

Oh.

His _arm._

They’ve given Sendak back his robotic arm and his eye.

For the first time, Shiro feels a little shiver song his spine. Fear? Anticipation?

Allura and her personal guard stand at the front of the room. When Shiro sits where he is directed, there is a case waiting for him. He pops it open and looks down.

He hates the arm, of course- it’s Galran and a gift and the Galrans don’t give gifts for good reasons. It’s hard to be without it, though. And anyway, he’s earned it.

Shiro attaches the arm to the port along his stump- too intricate and bothersome to remove, he’d thought at the time. He should have known they were just waiting for a chance to have it in the field again.

He flexes his arm, left and right, up and down. He traces the alphabet letter by letter, moves in guided circles small and tight than large and loose, all the calibration exercises from before. By the time he’s finished, the room has a few more occupants.

He knows them by reputation if nothing else.

“Killer Croc” Drazil, big and dumb and hulking, a lizard-like mutant with sharp thin teeth. His tail thrashes occasionally from side to side in warning.

“Diablo” Haxus tall, thin, serious faced- a Galran loyalist to the last. He passes a tiny flame from his lighter back and forth across his palms, watching the rest of the room with feigned indifference, though he avoids Shiro’s corner and lingers on Sendak. Probably looking to make an alliance down the line, poor bastard.

“Queen Shark” Plaxum, a beautiful blue skinned woman from the female division, body clad only in shimmering almost translucent scales, able to shift her body into that of a sinuous water serpent to crush a man to bones with a flick of that lacy tail.

Acxa “The Katana,” a tall and powerfully built woman with a short bob. He knows her well- and who she serves. Served, Shiro amends. No one would be serving Lotor anymore except maybe the actual devil.

That left…

“You,” Acxa hisses, leaping to her feet as the pretty boy is led into the room. There is the slightest hiccup to his step that he smoothes almost immediately, and his face betrays nothing.

Shiro had his guesses before, but that confirms it. He hadn’t heard that they’d managed to take down the Red Quinn, but then news travels slow in the maximum security solitary row, he supposes.

He is… so young.

Acxa beeps. Her eyes go wide and her hands clap over her neck. A second, louder beep from beneath her fingers.

“I suggest you take your seat,” Allura says pleasantly. There’s a small device in her hand… one with six green lights next to a series of buttons. One light is red and flashing dangerously. When Acxa sits, it goes yellow, then back to green.

~~

The briefing is quick and direct. The Garrison has determined all of them to be too dangerous to live. The death penalty has been issued; working for Allura is their stay of execution- the bombs implanted just beneath the skin along the jugular is just a little insurance policy.

“So what’s in it for us?” Sendak asks craftily. “Why not just say no, if we’re to die anyway?”

“Die here or there, it won’t make a difference to me.” Allura says without batting an eye. “You’ll do it because you think you can turn it to your advantage… escape, profit, or cause a little more havoc on your way out.”

“What about a favor?” Red Quinn asks. His voice is smooth and casual.

“A favor,” Allura deadpans. Beside her, the thin guard Taylor grimaces and looks at the ceiling.

“Sure, like… I dunno. I miss a good espresso.” Red shrugs.

“You’ll do a life threatening mission for a coffee,” Plaxum says slowly.

“An espresso,” Red corrects. “Or something like that.”

“You’re not in a position to make demands,” Allura interects harshly.

“Who’s demanding?” Red asks, slouching back. “Just saying that maybe we’d be motivated, you know? Carrot and stick. So far I just see stick.”

“Coffee, bad.” Drazil growls. “No sssssleep.”

“Delicate constitution, huh, big guy?” Red asks sympathetically. “Well, it doesn’t have to be a coffee. We could leave it up to the Big Boss over there.” He jerks his chin in Allura’s direction and her eyes flash dangerously. “If she thinks we earned a coffee, we get a coffee. If maybe we do something bigger than a coffee, well… that would be your call, of course.”

Allura’s mouth thins as she takes in the room- the slight movement of interest from Plaxum and Drazil, the sharp murderous way that Acxa seethes in Quinn’s general direction, Sendak’s calculated smirk.

“An espresso could be on the table,” she says stiffly.

They all pay attention after that.

The mission looks like this:

A powerful magic user known as the Enchantress has taken over a six block radius downtown. She began her assault with an explosion of quintessence at police headquarters in the center of the radius. Garrison was able to evacuate the surrounding buildings more or less, but those who were left behind have been… changed.

“Changed,” Acxa echoes dubiously.

There’s no further elaboration on that point.

Objective: breach perimeter, infiltrate HQ, take out target.

“You will follow my directive, relayed to you via your handlers on headsets.” Several of the blank-faced guards join Allura at the front. “Deadshot will take point on this excursion.”

“No,” Shiro says, speaking for the first time since his arrival.

“No?” Allura raises an eyebrow dangerously.

“You can’t make them listen to me and they aren’t going to.” Shiro says calmly.

Sendak laughs, low and dangerous. “Command isn’t really your strong point, is it? I suppose I could take the reins.”

Shiro doesn’t even bother looking in his direction. “Anyone stupid enough to listen to you is going to die first.”

Sendak snarls.

“Enough.” Allura snaps. “You have your standing orders. Attempt to leave the perimeter, injure a teammate, or otherwise circumvent the objective of this mission and I will detonate without a moment’s hesitation. You are dismissed.”

~~

Despite the ticking time bombs inside their veins, Allura is prudent enough to keep them all under lock and key until the armored bus rolls up to the perimeter check. The frontline, Shiro notes, is completely deserted. In places the concrete barriers are cracked and blood spattered; the Garrison has fought and lost and abandoned their station.There are no visible bodies, and Shiro is unsure if that is better or worse.

Once they are all assembled outside, Allura directs her soldiers to the back of an armored van; as the gathered felons watch in bemusement, they create rough piles of assorted junk.

“Merry Christmas,” Taylor grins and the Garrison unit falls back a little.

Warily, they approach the stuff scattered on the ground. Weapons, armor, clothing, toys-

“Just what I always wanted,” Red says, scooping up a fake can of beans presumably stuffed with fake spring loaded snakes.

Shiro methodically shifts through the more familiar looking supplies, swapping out his flimsy prisoner shoes for a sturdy pair of steel-toed, sliding a decently balanced knife and holster along the inside. The kevlar body armor clips nicely over his prisoner garb, and though his arm is weapon enough, he doesn’t hesitate to holster an attractive looking AR-15 along his back. Clips and a couple of flash bangs go into the belt around his waist. There’s a mask, too, in the pile of masks- one with a familiar electronic enhancement. Shiro hesitates over it.

There’s a whistle and a sound of disgust that draws his attention. He turns in time to see Red Quinn pulling a black mesh bodysuit up the rest of the way over his washboard abs and slim waist, a flash of skin both shocking and alluring among all the destruction. The mesh runs from wrist to toe, followed up by a pair of flashy red heeled boots, fingerless black gloves, and a matching pair of satin shorts and bomber jacket, studded with sequins, half purple and half red like the streak in his hair now braided neatly down his back. He’s gotten into the make-up at some point, too- eyes lined expertly in glittery kohl. He catches sight of Shiro and the masks and walks over, leaning down to scoop up a familiar piece- blank, wide glowing rounded eyes and two slits along each cheek.

It decides Shiro; he leaves his Deadshot mask in the pile and steps away.

“No?” Red asks his back, holding his own mask up to half-cover his own face. “Are we skipping masks, fearless leader?”

“You should,” Shiro says, unable to help himself.

“Oh?” Quinn asks, feigning mild interest, but his visible eye darkens. Doesn’t like to be told what to do, Shiro notes with amusement.

He could say a lot of things- about the Galra, about Lotor, about the past and its hooks in the flesh of the future, bleeding through and stained forever, but Shiro discards these. No, perhaps a different method would be a critical shot.

“After all the trouble you went to looking pretty,” Shiro says, eyes sweeping along Red’s expertly made up face, “it’d be a shame to hide it.”

Red Quinn blinks, a slight flush darkening along his visible cheek. Shiro, satisfied, turns back to look over the others.

Acxa and Sendak are practical, walking armories with basic black body armor and armed to the teeth. The glowing sword Acxa wields is embossed with Galran symbols- Shiro is not a fan of the way it glows as she gives it a few swipes midair before tucking it in the sheath. Plaxum wears a slinky spandex number that clings to her curves and will hopefully stay more or less intact when she shapeshifts into her deadliest form. Drazil’s lizardlike plating is armor enough on its own.

Once they are properly supplied, the soldiers get back into their vehicles and drive away.

They stand there, watching them go.

“Well?” Sendak says nastily, turning to Shiro who does not respond except to watch him back flatly.

“They’ll detonate if you attack him,” Plaxum reminds Sendak, her gills flickering in agitation along her neck in a pretty ripple.

“Will they?” Sendak asks smoothly. “A subdermal bomb. Pretty sci-fi if you ask me. Look around.” He gestures widely at the burnt out remnants of the checkpoint. “No power, no wi-fi. Whatever this Enchantress is doing seems to be the magical equivalent of an EMP.”

“You think they can’t activate it,” Acxa says with interest.

“They overestimate themselves,” Sendak agrees. “Haxus?”

Haxus shoots off a burst of fire that barrels toward Shiro, but Shiro lifts his prosthetic which generates a quick burst of purple energy, shielding him from the heat.

“Unfairnesssss,” Drazil hissed, smacking his tail into Haxus. Caught unawares, Haxus goes limp and is sent flying, skittering twenty feet away… just past the perimeter.

“Shiro?” A voice at his ear. “What the hell is going on?”

“Team icebreaker,” Shiro grunts.

Haxus sits up, groaning and clutching at his left arm, which looks broken at the joint. Suddenly there’s a loud beep. Haxus’ eyes go wide.

“Uh-oh,” Red Quinn sing-songs, smirking.

The beeps come quicker together, and louder too- Haxus tries to scramble over the line but a quick peppering of gunfire forces him to take cover.

“Why?” he gasps, staring up at Sendak who lowers his now-smoking weapon.

“Scientific advancement, my dear boy,” Sendak answers.

Haxus’ neck explodes in a shower of red, his body going limp in the dust.

“Well.” Sendak says, turning away from the sight as though bored. “I think that was a very successful experiment, don’t you?”

“Am I horrified or impressed?” Plaxum asks no one in particular.

“I suppose you have a choice to make,” Sendak says, spreading out his hands. “Which of the Galra Champions to follow?”

“I was the Champion,” Shiro says with contempt. “You were barely a Captain.”

Sendak’s face twists with murderous rage. Over his shoulder, Shiro sees movement. Shiro’s prosthetic shifts, concealed wrist gun snapping into place and he fires off three quick shots. Sendak stiffens, goes pale- then turns when he realizes the shots are aimed over his shoulder.

“Ka-”

“Pidge,” the voice corrects. “Pidge Gunderson. I’m your handler, Shiro. Nice to meet you. For the first time.”

Shiro rolls his eyes at the emphasis, tucking his body behind a blasted out chunk of what used to be a AFV. “What am I looking at?”

They aren’t people, that’s for sure- twisted forms with loping, animalistic gaits, what looks like mechanized arms and limbs reaching and tearing through the debris to get to them.

“Something new,” Pidge confesses. “The Enchantress tore anyone in the blast zone to pieces and remade them somehow- they’re living chimera fused with quintessence and machines. We’re calling them _robeasts._ ”

“Weaknesses?”

“Your guess is as good as ours. Aim for the fleshy bits?” She suggests.

One with flesh drawn so tightly along its mouth that the face gapes open, exposing teeth and gums, crawls over Shiro’s makeshift barrier and snarls in his face. Shiro’s wrist gun fires once; the energy bullet slices through the thing’s mouth, straight up through the back of its head. It goes limp. Shiro rises, glances around. Plaxum faces two, her claws long and needle-thin swiping at one while the other evades her long serpentine tail. Acxa slices one in half while another two try to flank her. Sendak has one by the throat, Drazil is nearly buried under a pile of a half-dozen or so, and Red Quinn is adroitly using gymnastics to evade three more.

Shiro closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The angles- the distance. Consider moment, half cover- ricochet.

Shiro’s arm glows and he plants his feet, turning his body suddenly to send a volley of shots across the field. Robeasts fall like dominos, mid-battle, all around, felled by single expert shots to their exposed eyes, throats, ribs.

He straightens then ducks as a construction barrel zips by, exactly where he’d been standing the moment before.

Sendak’s laugh echoes, low- by the time Shiro looks, he’s gone, run off toward the ruins.

They all have, it seems.

Shiro sighs and surveys the area, checking for anything else out of place.

Red Quinn waves, sitting cross-legged on a flat chunk of what was probably a fountain once just behind him.

“You stayed,” Shiro says, surprised.

Red shrugs. “Wasn’t I supposed to, champ?”

“Don’t call me that,” Shiro says automatically.

“What should I call you, then?” Red raises an eyebrow. “Deadshot?”

“Shiro.”

“Shiro,” Red says, turning the name over in his mouth. “Cute. Do all your friends call you that?”

“You gonna be my friend, Red?” Shiro asks, stepping closer.

“Best friends,” he agrees. “And all my best friends call me Keith.”

(Shiro has a pretty good idea of what happens to Keith’s best friends)

There’s a sudden clattering sound to the left; Shiro shoves Keith behind him without thinking, arm guns activating as he whirls to face the threat. A pile of rubble in the center of the path shifts and shakes; a bemused Drazil sits up.

“And then there were three,” Keith says, amused. His hand comes up to rest lightly on the side of Shiro’s arm. Shiro skitters away from the touch automatically and Keith’s smirk grows.

“I think this team is going to work out just fine.”

~~

Getting to HQ in the center of the perimeter is easier said than done. Even with Pidge’s hacking skills to get eyes in the sky, it’s the barest luck that gets them to the parking garage in the first place. Drazil rages when a robeast catches him by the tail, and Shiro and Keith are forced to leave without him behind the wheel of a pearl white Dodge Viper, twin turbos.

Shiro revvs the engine till it slides from a purr to a snarl; the pink underglow kicking on and illuminating the sakura blossoms on the wrap along the car body. It’s a work of art.

“You two need a moment?” Keith asks, arching a brow as he slides into the passenger seat.

Shiro, feeling that little spark of _adventure_ he hadn’t felt for years and years grins and winks before throwing the car into gear. “The Dodge Viper is called _the most dangerous sports car ever made_ \- no anti-lock brakes, no stability control, 450 horsepower-”

“And you thought this would be a good choice…. Why?” Keith asks, unimpressed, rolling down the window and carelessly tossing a flashbang as the car backs past a group of snarling robeasts.

Instead of answering, Shiro shifts rapidly, the car zooming to incredible speed before cornering hard and blasting past another robeast snarling with frustration.

It’s a mad race through the streets, Keith occasionally tossing weaponry out of the window as it occurs to him while Pidge calls directions beat by beat, around debris and attackers, taking shortcuts through alleys and storefronts. The fake can of beans goes at one point and Shiro raises an eyebrow. Keith smiles. A beat later, an explosion. Clearly not on its factory setting. Keith’s fighting style is as unpredictable and deadly as his personality. Shiro finds himself dangerously attracted.

They get pretty close, can _see_ the police headquarters with a direct line when the oversized robeast leaps off the top of the Hilton as they pass, slamming down on the hood of the car and causing Shiro to lose control. Desperately trying to wrestle the steering wheel, the robeast snarls and snaps its jaws through the crushes window, dripping and slavering purple goo that hisses where it hits the dashboard. Keith slouches low in his seat, using his long legs in their shiny boots to trap the robeast and keep it from crawling further in. The Dodge slams into a Starbucks storefront, glass and metal screeching as the vehicle slows to a roll; the impact jolts Keith and he loses his grip, sliding away from the robeast which goes for him-

Shiro shoves his prosthetic between them, down the robeast’s open mouth, and fires. It goes limp, but as he winces and pulls back, he sees the impression of teeth on his upper arm.

He feels… hot.

“Shiro?” Keith asks suddenly, snapping his fingers in front of Shiro’s face. “C’mon, here- I need you to focus.”

His arm spasms.

“Shiro?” Pidge demands. “Your nanotracker says your temperature is spiking- that robeast seems to have developed a poison weapon-”

“Looks like it’s your lucky day, Red.” Shiro murmurs. He opens the car door but slides out onto the floor, unable to support his own weight.

Keith swears loudly.

It’s a bit of a blur there for a minute- somehow he’s been picked up and shuffled along, the glimpse of a tail- Drazil must have caught up. He’s laying flat on his back along a countertop at one point, sees Keith’s long gloved fingers counting out a handful of colorful pills.

“Trust me,” Keith says in a voice that says he knows Shiro doesn’t. “I’m a doctor. Or I would have been.”

Shiro obediently swallows the pills and the bottle of water Keith holds to his mouth.

“Shut up, Lance, I’m a little busy right now,” Keith snaps into his headset.

“Why are you doing this?” Shiro asks, bewildered. There’s a sound like a scuffle, just outside- Drazil’s snake-like rattle of rage.

“Nobody gets to die for me,” Keith says firmly. “Not anymore.”

~~~

It takes a few hours but eventually the throbbing in Shiro’s arm cools; when he peeks at the wound under the bandage it’s red and raw but no longer inflamed.

“Leave that alone,” Keith admonishes. “Here, eat something with this batch. We can get moving in about an hour if you can keep it down.”

“Thanks,” Shiro says automatically, taking the banana moonpie and bottled water with another dozen pills. “A doctor, huh?”

“Med student,” Keith says, sounding a little sulky. “I didn’t make it through residency.”

“Career path change,” Shiro says knowingly. He drums the fingers of his prosthetic against the countertop, the metal pinging noise causing Drazil to flicker his tail and grunt where he’s spread out like a lizard-skin rug across the entrance, napping on guard duty. He’d long since ripped out his own transmitter for being _noisssssy_ and so seems content to trot after Shiro and Keith in the meantime.

“He killed my dad,” Keith says quietly. “Zarkon gave the order, but Lotor carried it out. You can’t just… un-know something like that.”

“Red Quinn,” Shiro says. “They said you were crazy. That you were in love with him, his right hand man.”

Keith shrugs. “I did what I had to,” he says flippantly. “Maybe that does mean I’m crazy. Why else work my way all the way up just to kill him and turn myself in?”

“Because it didn’t help, did it?” Shiro asks gently. “You thought you’d feel better but revenge doesn’t work that way.”

“Big words for a Galra dog,” Keith says smiling dangerously. “How many people did Deadshot kill in the name of Zarkon again?”

“One hundred sixty seven.” Shiro says quietly. “Before that, seventy three under the Garrison.”

“Why’d you do it?” Keith asks, fascinated. “I know why I did it, I’m fucking crazy. Why did you do it?”

“He did for me,” Pidge says, voice coming through crisply on both of their frequencies. “For my brother, and everyone waiting for him at home. So long as Shiro kept killing, Matt and my father would be kept alive. That was the agreement.”

“Where’s Lance?” Keith asks, eyes narrowing.

“Taylor. TAY-LOR. What’s the point in using codenames if you’re throwing around my government, _Red Quinn,_ ” Taylor-the-Lance criticizes.

“It’s a stupid codename. _Nobody_ calls you ‘The Tailor’ because of how you thread the needle,” Keith rolls his eyes.

“Well I can’t exactly go by Sharpshooter when Deadshot’s on the team,” Lance says, exasperated. “Anyway, now that the playing field is levelled out a little, Pidge and I figured it was time to let the cat out of the bag.”

“You’re working together?” Shiro asks.

“Lance and Keith were in medschool together, and I know you through Matt. We got ourselves on the team on purpose to get _you_ into the SS program.” Pidge explains. “I need you for Matt and Dad. Lance thinks Keith can help him find Veronica.”

“Keith helped my sister get away when her expose on corporate espionage accidentally outed Lotor’s dummy corporation Sincline,” Lance explains. “But now she’s in so deep the good guys can’t find her either.”

“Who’re the good guys, the Garrison?” Pidge asks, incredulous.

“Sometimes,” Lance protests. “Like Allura.”

“Allura Alforssen is a stone cold bitch,” Pidge says frankly. “She was bottle raised on blood and vinegar. You haven’t got a chance in hell.”

Lance sputters.

“Where are we headed, Pidge?” Shiro asks wearily, getting to his feet. He sways a little and Keith touches his elbow to steady him.

“The mission briefing says to go straight up to the top floor and face The Enchantress- it seems like that’s where the rest of the team is already heading. I want you to take a detour. There’s something fishy going on.” Pidge explains.

Shiro and the others are able to stealth their way over to the HQ with relatively little trouble- traveling in the wake of Sendak and the others seems to have some advantages. They pass piles of bodies, strangled, shot, and decapitated.

“Acxa does nice work,” Shiro comments, toeing a body that falls apart into three neat sections when moved slightly.

“She’s a battleaxe,” Keith says admiringly. “Too bad she wants to kill me.”

“Hazard of the trade, when you kill her crime boss boyfriend,” Shiro agrees.

“We were kind of friends, once.” Keith says quietly. “That’s the worst part of being a spy. You have to like the people you’re tricking. You have to mean it. That’s more important than just blending in.”

“Did you like Lotor?” Shiro asks, surprised.

Keith shrugs. “Not as much as I hated him.” Eager to change the subject, Keith taps his transmitter. “Lance, tell me why we’re busting into... conference room number five?”

“Because somehow it’s the only room to initiate lockdown procedure when The Enchantress struck. The information we have on exactly what happened is redacted to hell and back, like total black sharpie nightmare.” Lance explains.

“Allura won’t answer questions about it, either. She just gets pale and pissy if you ask,” Pidge says cheerfully. “And you know Holts, Shiro- we _can’t_ not know.”

Shiro snorts. Keith pries open the security panel and starts the painstaking override procedure but Shiro gently moves him aside. He pops open the index finger of his prosthetic, plugging the end into the reader; after a few scant seconds, it bings and turns green.

“Handy,” Keith grins toothily.

The door slides open.

Inside is no ordinary conference room- there are bodies strewn at desks and on the floor, the walls lined with giant screens and panels. Shiro flicks through one.

“Data,” he says. “Some kind of energy reading? Looks like it peaks right before the first wave knocked out central power. This must be running off an independent quintessence generator like my arm does.”

“Shiro,” Keith calls. Drazil, too big to slide into the cluttered room, stays a patient shadow guarding the door.

Keith’s screen has the picture of a young girl with golden hair and wide innocent eyes. She has the distinct markings of an Altean.

“Romelle Alforssen,” Keith reads. “Twenty years old, works as a translator and diplomat. She was brought here to decipher ancient Altean script on an artifact recovered at a crime scene-” he breaks off.

“Allura’s sister,” Lance says. “That’s Allura’s little sister.”

“She sent us to kill her sister?” Shiro asks.

“Stone cold bitch,” Pidge says with grudging admiration.

“This says there’s two pieces- it’s a crown and a necklace. The crown unlocks the power, the necklace can contain it.” Keith reads further down. There’s a velvet lined case on the desk with an indentation that perhaps once was a crown. A tarnished black metal collar necklace with a crescent moon in front gleams. “Why didn’t Allura brief us about this?”

“Force and motion,” Shiro murmurs.

“Of course,” Pidge breathes, and there’s furious typing on her end.

“What’s that mean?” Lance demands.

“If putting the crown on caused the first wave, blew power, killed people and changed others, putting the necklace on would probably have a similar effect. Allura was probably worried that if we tried to save her sister, it’ll blow out more than just a couple city blocks.” Shiro explains. “She had to choose between taking a slim bet that Romelle can even be reached versus some very real projected civilian casualties.”

“Shiro, plug me into the mainframe,” Pidge requests. “You’ll need to leave me there for a few minutes to calculate.”

Shiro obeys, slotting his receiver into the base of the monitor where she quickly establishes control, pulling up graphs and charts and data, surveillance from the room, recordings-

A pained hiss from outside catches his attention. Shiro and Keith slip out of the conference room just in time to see Plaxum’s long tail throttling the last breath out of Drazil, tossing his body to the side and grinning at them with her needle-fangs.

“You really think Sendak’s going to get you out of here?” Shiro asks, activating his arm gun.

“Not him,” Plaxum says dismissively. _“Her.”_ Plaxum’s eyes are bright and mad, and the faint swirl of dark quintessence makes her movements whip quick and deadly. Shiro peppers her tail with bullets but it hardly seems to phase her.

That tail shoots out, wrapping around Keith’s ankle and pulling sharply so that the boy falls flat against the floor. She opens her mouth wide and Shiro kneels down to retrieve his boot knife, throwing it between them. The edge of the blade catches Plaxum’s cheek, drawing a ribbon of purple-blue blood and causing her to jerk back from her prey with a clattering hiss of her unhinged jaw.

Before either of the men can move, Plaxum freezes and gives an aborted little whine. More of that purple-blue blood wells up from her mouth, spilling down her chin and she collapses in a heap of scales. Behind her, Acxa stands with her blade drawn and glowing with quintessence. Somehow, this quintessence is… different. It seems almost mocking, lavender pale along her weapon. It almost seems… alive.

There’s blood running down the side of Acxa’s neck from under a bandage. She’s cut out her tracker, Shiro realizes.

Acxa’s receiver flares to life. It’s transmission point is close, so the voices are loud enough to hear in the echoing hallway.

“Special delivery, one rescue coming up,” Ezor’s cheerful voice comes through.

“Did you take care of the traitor?” Zethrid’s voice is harsh. “I want Lotor to taste his revenge.”

The blade in Acxa’s hand glows brighter for a moment. She looks at the blade and then at the two of them, Shiro poised to shoot, Keith still sitting on the ground, making no move to defend himself. If she hurts him, Shiro will kill her, bomb or no.

Then the blade’s glow fades. Acxa tucks the weapon away. “Dead,” Acxa confirms, looking away. “Queen Shark got there first.”

“Did you kill her?” Ezor asks after a pause.

“I did.” Acxa confirms.

“Good enough. Get to the roof, we leave in five,” Zethrid barks, closing the channel.

“Acxa,” Keith says quietly when she turns away.

“I was his weapon,” Acxa says without turning around. “Now he’s mine. I suppose that makes us even.”

“Thank you,” Shiro says quietly, lowering his gun.

“I hope I never see either of you again,” Acxa says, and then she is gone.

~~

Pidge gives them the update on their way up, taking the elevator shaft to avoid the blockades along the stairwell. They only have to dodge two passing elevator cars to avoid being crushed, and two robeasts have the courtesy to fall to their deaths with only a little light baiting provided by Keith.

Shiro snipes as they pass each floor, hooking shots around corners and at angles to stem the flow. Keith disappears around floor five, lifting himself effortlessly by the arms and through an almost impossibly small opening torn in the elevator door.

He swings back into the elevator shaft around floor seventeen, splattered with gore and with a new friend.

Where did Keith get the roller skates? Where did he find the enormous slobbering purple wolf dog to pull him along?

“The veil between worlds is thin here,” Pidge explains. “Quintessence is leaking through, like watercolors on paper. What you experience as reality is shifting in a lot of ways.”

“I’m keeping him,” Keith announces, arms thrown around the shaggy beast who could most definitely tear Shiro limb from limb if it wanted to.

A short detour on floor twenty three gets them the electrobracers from evidence.

“Just my style,” Keith says admiringly, clipping them to his wrists where they flare to life in a spark of black and purple lightning. He wriggles them like a debutant showing off a tennis bracelet. “Who brought these babies in? Must have been a hell of a fight.”

“The Huntress,” Lance says shortly and Keith’s cheerful demeanor drops. “Raid on some Galra gangsters, I heard.”

“Figures,” he snorts. “So, if we use these, we’ll localize the backlash.”

“More or less,” Pidge agrees. “If my calculations are correct, the quintessence field The Enchantress is generating should prevent a blast radius from affecting anyone outside the top floor. Since it’s concentrated, though, whoever’s closest is going to get fried. If you wear the bracers, it’ll hurt like hell, but at least you won’t die.”

“As good a plan as any,” Shiro agrees. “But I could wear them, Keith. You could be the distraction.”

“Find me terribly distracting, do you?” Keith asks archly. “Thanks, but I got it. These are hardly your style and I’m a hell of a lot faster, old timer.”

Shiro rolls his eyes but allows Keith to lead the way.

The problem comes outside the chamber leaking quintessence and malice at the top of the building. What was once likely a meeting room for the highest echelon has been transformed, twisted into a facsimile of an ancient temple, steel slithering life-like and unsteady. Rivers of raw purple quintessence leaks along the walls, eating through the floor, exposing beams and concrete, a nightmare of uncontrolled power and madness. Beside them the mutant wolf dog- _Kosmo,_ Lance calls it, after some inside joke with Keith that makes him pout adorably, phases and flickers in and out of corporeality this close to the witch’s power.

Sendak catches Shiro by the throat, slamming him into the wall, arms splayed and helpless. Before Shiro can move, Keith is on him, eyes fierce and mouth tight, fighting like he means it and not like it’s a funny place he ended up.

Sendak grabs Keith’s wrist and squeezes hard; Keith lets out an agonized cry and the electrobracer gives one warbling beep before falling to the floor in pieces.

“I’ve waited a long time for this, Champion.” Sendak says, eyes bright and mad.

_CHAMPION_

The word is like a shot.

There’s a woman on a dais before them, rising from the floor, her eyes glowing. Long wild white-ash hair flows around her, skin mottled and purple, demonic and decayed. Red markings along her face and arms pulse with terrifying power. Haggar, the witch-spirit, has taken over Romelle completely.

Shiro heaves his body to the side and Sendak is sent off balance; Keith slashes at Sendak with a knife he’d hidden beneath his shiny jacket, using Sendak’s momentum to flip him almost effortlessly away from Shiro and into the far wall. Shiro thinks he’s seen that move before, somewhere. A briefing video, maybe?

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Shiro blinks at Keith blearily- and realizes he’s been hit. Blood wells beneath his fingertips, pressed along his side. “You’re going to be okay, just keep pressure on it,” Keith assures him. When he reaches up to touch Shiro’s cheek, Shiro can see where the other electrobracer dangles, sputtering and useless.

“You’ll make a good doctor,” Shiro says weakly. “Good... bedside manner.”

“You really think that, huh?” Keith asks, smiling.

Pidge and Lance are talking, but their voices are too loud. Shiro winces and Keith removes his headpiece for him. Then Keith kisses him- brief, soft, and too short for Shiro to react.

“I wish I’d met you sooner. My life would have been a lot different, I think.” Keith says gravely.

Then he stands, pulling the collar out of his pocket to face The Enchantress.

“No,” Shiro whispers.

The bracers are broken. If Keith does this now, it’ll kill him.

Against the wall, Sendak stirs. He catches sight of Keith and lumbers to his feet.

Pidge and Lance are talking at once, voices distant from the discarded headset, but Shiro can’t think about them right now.

Kosmo flickers into being long enough to launch himself at The Enchantress who hisses, throwing her arms up in a flash of dark power to repel the beast-

Keith reaches out with the collar-

Sendak’s arm powers up, glowing black and purple as he swings to connect with Keith’s unprotected back-

Shiro takes a deep breath, aims, and fires.

The bullet hits Keith first, striking in the scant space between his thumb and forefinger, where he holds the collar out, snapping it into place while Haggar is distracted. Keith recoils instinctively, fingers drawing back and his body twisting out of the way. It ricochets off the collar and back striking Sendak and arresting him mid-strike, saving Keith from the killing blow.

There’s a third ricochet, but Shiro’s aim was _off_ and the bullet hits Keith, skims his cheek leaving a raw and bleeding wound along his face. Undeterred, Keith grins savagely, realizing what Shiro’s done in an instant. He spins, kicking Sendak hard in the lower back, sending him into The Enchantress, reaching blindly-

And The Enchantress shrieks as the room is filled with light.

~~

Shiro wakes up in the hospital.

He’s down a metal arm and up quite a few tubes and monitors. Concussion. Fractured ribs. Sprained knee. Gunshot wound. His reflection in one of the darker monitors is a pale haired stranger.

“Quintessence impact side effect,” Allura says. She’s sitting in a chair beside his bed. “Shouldn’t compromise your abilities in the field. The silver fox look suits you, anyway.”

“Thanks,” Shiro says, uncertain. “Is Keith…?”

“That dimension dog he picked up along the way shielded most of the damage- whatever Sendak didn’t take. He did not make it, by the way- I’m sure you’re heartbroken. You’re much worse off, other than a superficial facial wound, Keith’s perfectly sound.”

Shiro winces at that. The only scar Keith will have and it’s his fault.

“Romelle?” Shiro asks and Allura smiles. She’s lovely when she smiles, and she has kind eyes.

“She’s herself again,” Allura says. “And I suppose you want to know what happened to your little rogue squadron? Oh I know all about Miss Katie Holt and Lieutenant McClain’s little insurrection. You disobeyed orders and violated procedure… if you were Garrison, I’d have you all court martialed.”

“...But we’re not Garrison,” Shiro says after a moment.

Allura smiles again. “No,” she says. “You’re not. And I’m not here as a Garrison superior.”

“I’m guessing you didn’t come for the ambiance,” Shiro rolls his eyes. “What do you need?”

“Your coffee order,” she says.

A beat.

“Let him go,” Shiro says. Allura raises an eyebrow. “He’s just a kid, and he’s an asset- you saw how he worked in the field. Keith just needs a little guidance and a second chance. Don’t give up on him.”

“You’d like to give your coffee to Keith instead?” Allura asks to be sure.

“An espresso,” Shiro corrects.

“Hm,” Allura says.

~~

It’s about a week before Shiro is released and driven back to Belle Reve. He expects it when he’s marched past general pop to max security wing, but is surprised when he’s led even further than that, and his nameless changeable guard is switched for a familiar face at the checkpoint.

“Miss me?” Pidge asks, grinning.

“Thought you’d got the sack for sure,” Shiro says, pleased.

“I’m too valuable an asset,” Pidge says breezily. “And anyway it’s harder to argue against someone who gives results.”

“I’ll find Matt,” Shiro says suddenly. “I promise.”

“I know,” Pidge grins. “Shiro, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful relationship together.”

Shiro snorts. Pidge unlocks a triple barred door that he doesn’t remember seeing before. She then uncuffs him and lets him free.

“Is this new?” Shiro asks, but Pidge just gestures for him to go inside.

Once the cell door closes behind him, lights along the floor illuminate a straight path. Shiro follows it to a door- a regular door, like a door to a home. Hesitantly, he opens it.

Inside it’s like another world. It’s decked out like an inexpensive apartment, a starter place for college seniors, maybe. Cheap drywall is decorated with wall decals, hanging photos of kittens and landscapes of flowers. There’s a simple kitchenette with two working electric burners and a stove- next to the sink with running hot water is a surprisingly high end coffee machine with an espresso attachment. The living area has an overstuffed couch of medium comfort, and a coffee table with coasters. There’s a shower with an actual curtain. There are bedrooms with real pillows and sheets.

Shiro is almost done exploring when he hears the door open again. Light, cautious footsteps.

“Keith?” Shiro asks, heart in his throat.

Keith rounds the corner and they just look at each other for a moment, eyes wide. That damn scar, Shiro notes with a pang. It’s stark against his pale skin. Then Keith’s eyes darken in anger.

“What are you doing here?” He demands.

“I…. they put me here,” Shiro says weakly, holding up his remaining arm.

“Where’s your arm?”

“It’s a weapon, they had to lock it up- look, I’m so sorry, Keith-”

“Sorry?” Keith stops pacing. His expression turns mild with confusion. “You’re not supposed to be here, Shiro. I told them to let you go.”

Shiro’s jaw drops. Keith continues.

“Look at you, you’re a natural in the field, they’d be complete idiots to leave you here to rot- you saved me I don’t even know how many times out there, and you’re so good and kind, and you helped Romelle without even knowing her, and-”

Shiro catches Keith around the waist, pulling him close and stopping his mouth with a kiss.

They break away when they hear clapping.

“Don’t mind us,” Romelle says, eyes bright. She looks like a normal girl- happy and peppy and resplendent in pastel, aside from the clunky collar-style necklace. Beside her, Kosmo yips softly in agreement.

“What is all this?” Shiro asks her, but doesn’t let go of Keith who is red-faced and trying to catch his breath.

“Welllll… you asked for Keith to be let go and he asked for you to be let go! But like… you’re still in trouble, you know? You killed like mondo people and Keith did some serious bad guy stuff undercover with Lotor’s gang, no matter who his mom is. Plus I’m super dangerous! I guess, I don’t remember much.” She tilts her head to the side thoughtfully. “And Kosmo’s not, like… got his dimension shots or whatever. So we’re stuck together for now, and this is HQ between missions.”

“HQ?” Shiro asks, amused.

“Welcome to the Suicide Squad,” Romelle winks.

**Author's Note:**

> Keith's mom is Krolia, The Huntress, a superhero, which is why Tex got targeted in the first place and why Keith's such a badass- he was raised that way. I love this detail and wish I had been able to work it in better lol <3


End file.
